She flinched and shook her head.
“Yeah. Thought so.” Gael’s expression softened, just slightly. He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pushed off the frame, moving toward the door. “Here’s the deal. You want to stay? Fine. But you work with your horse, and you don’t make things worse for him,” he paused for a second, then tagged on, “or for Rowan.”
Enya’s chest tightened. “For Rowan?” Her voice cracked, the words escaping before she could stop them. “How will I make it worse for him?”
Gael turned back, his expression darkening. “You?” He let out a humorless laugh. “You’re already drowning, kid. Rowe’s the only one who doesn’t seem to notice.” He shook his head, his voice dropping. “Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care. Here’s the thing about Rowe: he’s a protector to the core. He’ll fight every battle you allow him to. But none of them is going to fix what’s here,” he tapped his forehead and then his chest, “or here. Don’t let him drown because it fails to fix what’s damaged in you. Only you can fix that shit. By getting up every day, and working your ass off to find what makes your world a little less dark and unforgiving.”
The words hit her like a physical blow. She wanted to deny them, to scream that she was fine, that she didn’t need anyone’s pity. But the truth of it settled in her chest. She was drowning. Colombia was winning the fight inside her for her sanity. She chewed on the corner of her lip, and before she could talk herself out of it, she asked, “What if Rowan is the thing that makes me want to live in the real world again?”
“Then work your ass off every fucking day, to be the woman he needs, not the one he thinks he wants.” His hands opened and closed into fists before he nodded, “Breakfast in ten. Then you’re on stall duty.” He reached for the doorknob. “If you are the woman for Rowe, you’ll fight with everything you are to be the best version of you. That means no longer letting fucking voices in your head, or nightmares in your dreams, win.” The door shut behind him with a quiet click.
Enya stood there, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a physical force.Drowning.She knew she was drowning; she felt it every time she closed her eyes and saw Maria’s face, her dark hair fanned out on the stable floor, her sightless eyes staring up at the rafters. Every time Rain’s hollow gaze met hers,as if he could see the guilt eating her alive. She was drowning, and she’d been too busy trying to keep her head above water to notice that Rowan might be right there with her.
But last night, when he’d kissed her back, when his hands had gripped her like she was something precious instead of broken—she hadn’t felt like she was sinking. She’d felt like she could breathe.
Get your crap together.
You can do this.
You have to do it.
They deserve better than you’ve been giving them.
As she changed into her stable clothes, she knew how hard this had been on everyone. She hadn’t been able to see it before. Not really. Just before she left the room, she picked up her phone and sent a fast text message.
Enya: I love you, have a good day. Tell Momma I say hi.
Daddy: We love you, too, baby girl.
She swallowed down the unease building inside her and shut the phone off again as fast as she could. She knew it was unfair and knew it hurt her dad, but she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for the conversations that they wanted to happen.
Rain won’t judge.
Neither does Rowan.
Ten minutes later, the barn doors groaned as she shoved them open, the scent of hay and damp earth hitting her like a slap in the face. The air was thick with the musk of horses and the sharptang of manure. As if he’d been waiting for her, Rain’s head shot up from the far stall, his ears twitching forward, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach clench.
Determined to at least try to figure out how to fix things, she walked toward him. The barn was alive with the soft rustle of horses shifting in their stalls, the occasional clink of a halter chain, the distant murmur of voices from the tack room. Somewhere outside, a truck engine rumbled to life, and the sound vibrated through the wooden planks beneath her feet.
“Hey, you,” she murmured, sliding the stall door open with a quiet creak.
Rain watched her, his nostrils flaring, and his body tense. His coat was still dull, patchy where sweat had dried, his ribs too sharp beneath his skin. But his eyes—those dark, knowing eyes—held hers, and for a moment, she swore he understood.
She swallowed hard, sucked in a shaky breath, and leaned her forehead against his. “Good boy, baby. How are you doing, huh? Did you have breakfast already?” Rain didn’t care what words were coming out of her mouth. He just cared that she was talking to him.
A horse whinnied in the distance, and Rowan’s voice carried from the tack room, the words indistinct but the tone unmistakable—he was giving orders, his voice tight with something she couldn’t place. “I probably shouldn’t have kissed him.”
Rain bopped his head and moved it to rest over her shoulder, as if to say he agreed. His breath was warm and familiar.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his neck. His coat was rough beneath her fingers, but the heat of him seeped into her, steadying her. “How about we try to fix this, huh?”
She cocked her head to one side as the sound of footsteps coming down the aisle reached her ears. She didn’t need to look up to see who it was. She knew the weight of Rowan’s stare, the way it settled on her like a heavy and electric physical thing. She could feel the shift in the air, the way the barn seemed to hold its breath when he was near.
“Gael said you were on stall duty.” His voice was rough, like gravel under boots, the words scraping against the silence.
She kept her eyes on Rain’s mane, her fingers tangling in the coarse hair. “Figured I’d start with him,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
There was a pause, followed by the thud of his boots as he stepped closer. “He’s not ready for work.”
